Change is Coming, Feel These Doors Now Closing In
by Vita Fidens
Summary: The second-to-last installment in this series, sequel to "You Can't Explain a Love Like Ours." Punk. Wade. What feels like a lifetime of history, hurt, and love. Who will she choose? M: Sex, language
1. Chapter 1

I stood there, aghast.

Mason Ryan. I had seen neither hide nor hair of him in years, and I hadn't spoken to him in about the same amount of time.

It was as if my past was suddenly rushing up to my present and colliding in a less than pleasant way. The past never goes away. Not really.

"Hi," I finally managed to say, finding my tongue. "I'm really surprised to see you."

He smiled, and I found myself remembering that expression from ages ago. "I'm really surprised to be here," he admitted. "I wasn't surprised to hear about you and Punk, though." He paused. "I hear you have kids now?"

I managed to smile. "I do. A boy and a girl."

We were quiet for a few moments. "Do you mind if I come in?" He asked. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

And so I found myself, as I had too often lately, sitting at my kitchen table with someone from my distant past who was inserting himself into my future.

"Why are you here?" I asked, setting down two cups of coffee. If this kept up, I thought, I would lose both my taste for sitting at the kitchen table as well as for drinking coffee.

He laughed. "You never lost your directness."

I sat down in the chair next to his. "It's only gotten worse as I've gotten older," I admitted. "I seem to have lost a lot of patience, which I was in short supply of in the first place." I looked at him expectantly.

"Punk called me. Of course."

"Why?"

He looked me directly in the eyes. "He's afraid of losing you to Wade again. He wanted me to talk to you, to convince you that your life with him would be better."

I could tell by his tone that he didn't believe this himself. "You don't buy it."

"No," he shook his head. "Time brings the gift of perspective. Obsession is not love. And make no mistake; as much as he might spout off about being reformed, he is still obsessed with you."

The statement hung between us; frank, bold, and terrifying. It confirmed the awful feeling I'd had in my gut since I had allowed Punk back into my life.

I tried to be objective. "Why do you say that?"

Mason shrugged. "The way he talked about you, just in our one phone conversation…" he trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words. "He was so exasperated. As if it should be a foregone conclusion that you were his, and that your marriage was simply an obstacle to overcome."

"Why do you call that obsession instead of confidence?"

"A confident man wouldn't rant about it for half an hour without a break." Mason eyed me shrewdly. "You're only asking because you've been feeling it, too. You can feel that something's off with him."

I bit my lip. "Yes," I admitted. "Yes, there is something terribly wrong with him." I paused. "What do I do?"

"You need to get your children and get away from him. Go somewhere where he will not be able to find you. Don't have contact with anybody, not even Wade." He noticed I was opening my mouth to object. "No," he said, holding his hand up. "It's the only way all of you will be safe. You need to get out of here."

"Now, now," a voice said from the doorway. I whipped my head around to see Punk, arms crossed over his chest. "Don't you think that's a bit of an overreaction?"


	2. Chapter 2

It was as if time stood still. The smugness of Punk's face, with his eyes smoldering with his barely-suppressed rage, burned itself into my consciousness. I felt all of the blood drain from my face, and suddenly I was afraid I might wet myself.

The terror was very sudden, and very real.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, and the look he gave me made me snap it shut again.

He wasn't just angry with Mason.

"I'm so glad," he finally said slowly, "that wanting to reunite two people who were supposedly best friends leads to a gossip-fest about me. I'm always grateful to see that my genuine care and concern for two people has led to backstabbing, conniving ridiculousness."

I swallowed hard, dropping my gaze away from him.

"Look away," he snapped. "You _should_ be ashamed."

"Punk," Mason said, "you know it yourself. You can feel yourself slipping back into old habits, back into old ways of thinking. You're not safe for her. You're definitely not safe for the kids."

"I love those kids," he growled. "I would die for them. Don't you dare tell me I'm not safe."

We were all quiet for entirely too long.

"Mason," I finally said softly, reaching across the table and resting my hand on his forearm, "you should go."

He opened his mouth to protest, and I firmly cut him off. "It's ok," I continued. "We can catch up later." I pulled out my cell phone and asked for his number. I entered it carefully, checking the number with him before saving it.

I walked him to the door, Punk glowering at the two of us as we hugged goodbye.

"Be careful," he murmured next to my ear.

"I know what I'm doing," I replied just as quietly.

The door shut firmly behind him, I turned around to face Punk once more.

I decided to go the righteous anger route.

"Can you blame me," I started, my teeth grit, "for being scared?" I did my best to flare my nostrils, waiting what I hoped appeared impatiently for an answer. "Well?" I hissed after a few moments.

I strode up to where he stood. "Mason shows up suddenly at my door, after I can't even remember how many years. He tells me you've called to have him champion your cause. He tells me he's worried about how you're acting." I paused. "I have children now!" I finally exploded. "I cannot take any chances. If you're unstable, I can't have you around. This isn't just about me any more."

I pointed to the door. "If you can't understand that, or respect that, then get out. I don't care what you think; I will do whatever I must to ensure that my kids are safe."

He was quiet, his jaw clenched and his arms still crossed over his chest. His eyes were locked on mine, and I didn't dare look away.

He took a deep breath through his nose. "You're right," he finally said, shaking his head. His arms dropped to his sides. "That was a dumb move. I…. I can see why you would be worried." He paused, licking his lips. "I'd never do anything to hurt you, or Ben, or Claire. I swear."

I forced my body to relax. "You really need to start using better judgment," I said, my voice dropping a few octaves in heat. "I want to believe you; I really do. But your actions are in direct conflict with the words that you say."

He had the good sense to look abashed. "I know," he sighed. He took a few steps towards me and put his hands on both of my cheeks, guiding my face to his for a kiss.

I allowed him to do so, but pulled back quickly.

"I need some time."

I knew then that he saw right through me, and I knew I was in trouble.

He smiled. "Of course," he said genially. "Why don't you spend the day relaxing around here?" He rubbed my shoulder lightly, a small smile on his face. "I'll stay here and watch Claire." He raised his hands. "I promise, we'll stay out of your hair."

I tried to keep myself from swallowing down my fear. "All right," I agreed. "Thank you."

I stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. He turned his head to catch my lips and kissed me roughly.

"Don't go too far," he said, his quiet voice, his attempt to keep his tone casual, was betrayed by the implied meaning behind his words.

I managed to smile. "I won't."


	3. Chapter 3

I paced my bedroom, gnawing my cheek.

I could hear Punk and Claire laughing away downstairs. It was comforting to hear, even though I did truly believe that he wouldn't do anything to hurt my kids. It was still nice to have some reassurance.

I sat on my bed, lost, clenching my hands. I was still too panicked to really begin to work through the current issue and garner a solution.

I took a few deep breaths. In reality, I still wasn't really entirely informed about the current issue.

I ran down what I knew.

It appeared that Punk might be slipping into his old patterns of thinking about me and our relationship. This was dangerous, as it lead to erratic, unpredictable, and occasionally violent behavior. I had two children that I needed to protect at all costs. That was all I could say for certain.

I ran down the variable factors. Well, the one variable factor.

I had no idea what Punk was planning now. It was only apparent that he didn't intend to leave me alone right now. Was he going to leave in the future? I didn't see how he could possibly stay for the rest of our lives. There would have to be some opportunity, some chance for privacy for the kids and I. Whether or not it would be enough of a window of time to accomplish anything was the real question.

I lay down on my bed, resting my hand over my eyes. The variable was simply too overwhelming to consider at the moment. I didn't have enough to go on to create any sort of plan.

I found myself suddenly exhausted. The weight of the morning was pressing in on me quite heavily.

I curled up on my side, my mind still racing. To my surprise, I found my eyes dropping. I tried to fight against sleep, but it eventually overcame me.


	4. Chapter 4

When I woke again, I was surprised to find a heavily-tattooed arm wrapped around me.

"Claire's down for her nap," he said softly from behind me, his voice mildly groggy. He nuzzled his face into my neck and lightly kissed me.

I tried to keep my breathing even. "Thank you," I murmured, stretching out. "I didn't mean to fall asleep. Did you guys have a good time?"

"Yeah," he replied. "We watched some kid-friendly TV. She made me pretty with hair accessories. I was a pony for a little while."

I couldn't help it. I snorted back laughter. I could feel him laughing behind me, and we finally broke and started laughing out loud.

My laughter almost felt maniacal after a few moments. The absurdity of my situation was not lost on me. I could only imagine it was similar for him.

I couldn't stop laughing, long after it was apparent that I didn't find anything amusing. Punk's hand slowly slid away from me, and after a moment he was kneeling beside the bed in front of me.

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" I laughed, tears rolling down my cheeks. "And there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop this." My laughter finally died away, and all that was left were tears trickling down my cheeks.

He sighed and started to stroke his hand back through my hair. "I'm not going to kill you," he said slowly. "I don't know how else to make you see that I can't live without you."

I was quiet, save my sniffling. He continued to stroke my hair away from my face, his motions completely soothing and entirely gentle.

"This was a mistake," I finally burst out, pulling away from him. "I shouldn't have…I never wanted…." I trailed off, frustrated at my inability to find the right words. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to still myself. "This never should have happened," I finally said.

"But it did," Punk said. "Now we have to figure out how to make it work."

I shook my head. "No, we don't. Now we have to figure out how to stay away from each other. I don't want to do this anymore. This constant worry, this fear, is more than I can handle."

I pulled back from him. He surprised me by climbing onto the bed in front of me and pulling me into his arms.

I rested my hand against his chest, still sniffling. We were quiet for a long time.

"I should go," he finally said. I hazarded a glance up at his face and was unsurprised to see that his cheeks were wet.

"I'm sorry," I said softly. And I truly was.

He shrugged. "Don't be, sweetheart. You're doing what you feel is best for you and the kids. I might not agree, but I can't fault you for doing what you think is right."

"Thank you," I said, finding myself relieved as I leaned up and kissed his cheek. He turned his head and kissed me passionately.

"It doesn't mean I'll stop loving you," he said quietly. "I hope you know that."


	5. Chapter 5

I debated for a few minutes before calling Mason and inviting him over for dinner.

As I had anticipated, the kids were in awe of him and then took to him immediately. I was pleased to note that his jovial nature hadn't changed, and he took to them immediately as well.

We spent a long time catching up and parted with a hug, promising that it wouldn't be so long next time.

I went to bed smiling, happy to have my best friend back. It had filled a hole I hadn't realized was in my heart, and I was starting to feel more whole.

I thought a lot about that in the moments before I slept.

Years ago, I had been happy and fulfilled. I had friends. I didn't have drama. I missed that.

Now my existence seemed to center around two men, neither of whom could fulfill me completely. I wasn't sure if that was a fair expectation to have of them or not. I knew fulfillment had to come from myself, but shouldn't a partner contribute to that feeling?

My head went around and around these ideas several times, the conclusion tantalizingly close but just out of reach.

I finally rolled over and slept.

I dreamed.

It's slightly embarrassing to admit it, but I dreamed pretty heavily about sex. I woke up gasping and panting, slipping my hand down to finish what my brain had started.

I was startled when there was already a hand there. I turned my head quickly to see Punk smiling lazily at me.

"I couldn't leave without one last goodbye," he explained gently, leaning forward to kiss me.

I kissed him as my body shuddered next to him, and I had to press my lips tightly against his to keep from screaming.

"That's it," he murmured, kissing my neck as my orgasm started to subside. "Hold on to me, love, I'm right here."

I turned towards him and wrapped both arms around him, resting my face in the nook between his head and shoulder.

"How did you get in?" I managed to ask after a few minutes.

"I used the key you gave me. I was hoping you'd still be awake when I got here. When you weren't, I thought I knew how to wake you up."

He turned and kissed the top of my head.

"You shouldn't - " I started.

"We're not doing that right now," he admonished, although he didn't sound terribly angry. "We're not worrying about should or shouldn't." He kissed me again. "I want us to stop worrying about what we supposedly should or shouldn't do. I want us to do what we want."

He climbed on top of me and was inside of me within seconds. "Oh," was all I managed to say, gripping his arms tightly.

He grinned. "I love you," he said softly, beginning to move slowly inside of me. "I don't want to lose you. I don't care if I should be ok with you ending things or if I shouldn't say that. It's what I want."

He bent down and kissed me. "What do you want?"

My mind began buzzing with every possible answer. I finally settled on the one with the least implications. "I want you to keep going," I murmured, pressing my hips against his.

He laughed and obliged me.


	6. Chapter 6

I woke up pleasantly tangled up in Punk's arms, his legs wrapped around mine. I sighed contentedly until I noticed a set of eyes peering at us over Punk's shoulder.

"Benny?" I said, sitting up and pulling the blankets to cover us. "Is everything ok?"

"Why is Dad sleeping in your bed?" He asked, his arms crossed over his little chest.

Punk's eyes opened and he turned over to look at Ben. "Hey buddy," he said, his voice thick with sleep. "Why don't you go down into the kitchen. Your mom and I will meet you there and we can talk."

Ben was unmoved. "Are you guys going to get married?"

"Benny," I started, unsure of what, exactly, I was going to say after that, "your dad and I have decided to spend some time together as a couple. We just don't know yet where it's going to go."

I was relieved to see a small grin break out on his face. "I knew you guys were keeping something from me."

I smiled. "You're too smart for your own good."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't want to get your hopes up," Punk said. "We didn't want to say anything until we were sure we were going to be together for awhile."

"Of course you will," Ben scoffed. "You love each other."

Hearing that come from the mouth of my seven-year old child stopped my breath in my throat. How was it that he could see that and I couldn't?

"Can we have pancakes for breakfast?" He asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Meet you downstairs in five minutes," Punk promised.

"I promise you," Punk said softly in my hair, "that you won't regret this for a minute."

"I hope not," I said quietly, snuggling under his arm. The kids were sacked out on the floor, curled up under blankets while a movie played on the TV. Claire was asleep and Ben was engrossed.

Punk sighed contentedly, his hand lightly stroking back through my hair. "I feel better now that they know."

"I do too," I admitted, kind of surprised.

"And I'm sorry about that nastiness yesterday. I called my therapist when I got home. I'm going to start seeing her again."

"I'm really, really glad to hear that." I looked up and met his eyes. "Really glad."

He smiled. "I just want us to be happy. I'll do whatever it takes to make sure we are." He caught my chin and brought my face to his for a kiss.

"Please don't go crazy," I said softly. "I couldn't deal with it again."

His eyes were wide and I could see them start to fill with tears. "I'll never be able to forget," he said slowly, "how badly I have damaged you. I'm so sorry. I promise, my crazy is done."


	7. Chapter 7

"You told the kids about you and Punk?" Wade's voice was low and dangerous. "Ben mentioned it when I picked him up from school."

"It wasn't intentional," I replied dryly. "He walked in on us. Thankfully, he didn't see anything that would scar him for life."

Wade was quiet, and I suddenly got nervous. "You're having sex with him?"

"Yes? I thought you...knew that..."

"No," he said briskly. "I wasn't aware of that little gem. I thought you had been intimate once before you started dating. I didn't consider that you would continue that aspect of your...relationship." He spat the last word out as if it tasted foul.

"Well, I'm sorry you had to find out that way." I refused to apologize for being an adult and having a sexual relationship.

"So am I."

I held the phone to my ear, silent, unsure of what I should say.

"You're unbelievable," he finally snapped. "I was willing to indulge your delusions that Punk had changed for a short while. But now, knowing that you're fucking him, knowing that your relationship is progressing... I can't stand by and watch you destroy yourself." He paused. "I'm restarting divorce proceedings. And I want custody of Claire."


	8. Chapter 8

I tried to cry quietly, but I found it almost impossible. So I buried my face in a pillow and sobbed my heart out.

I was saddened that my relationship with Wade was finally, undeniably over. And that he wanted to take Claire...I was terrified. I was also hurt, and confused. I replayed his words about Punk over in my head.

Finally, sniffling, I picked up my phone and called. When he answered, his voice guarded, I started sobbing again.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," I finally managed to choke out. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Are you home?" That was all he asked.

"Uh-huh."

"Don't move."

He showed up fifteen minutes later. I had managed to compose myself and was sitting in the living room when he arrived.

"You burst blood vessels in your face," he said by way of greeting. He looked sad.

"It's been a rough night," I replied quietly.

He came and sat beside me. "I was out of line earlier," he said softly. "I was just so upset."

"You weren't out of line," I replied, shaking my head. "I've been out of line. I don't understand why I love him, but I do. I shouldn't. Even...even my seven-year-old son sees that I can't stay away from him. I'm sick."

"You're not sick," he said gently, covering my hands with his. "You follow your heart, sometimes to a very detrimental fault."

Tears started to trickle down my cheeks again. "Come here," Wade said, pulling me down onto his chest.

I managed to smile while I started crying anew. "Your heartbeat always soothes me," I finally said. I realized suddenly how many times I must have had this thought and never verbalized it before.

I could feel him smiling as he kissed the top of my head. "So what are we going to do?" He finally asked.

"I don't want to lose you," I admitted. My sobbing and aching heart had proven to me that losing Wade simply wasn't an option. "I am...afraid...to leave Punk."

It was the first time I had said those words out loud. It felt oddly liberating.

"Afraid that he will hurt us? Or afraid that you won't be able to stay away from him?"

I swallowed hard. "Both."

Wade nodded slowly. "I'm glad that you're being honest with me." He paused. "I don't know what to do," he finally admitted. "I want to have a grand solution for you, one that allows us to return to our quiet, happy lives. But I don't have one."

I nodded. "You don't need to have all the answers. I just need _you_."

He took my chin and brought my face up to his for a kiss. We stayed there for a long time.

"I miss you," he finally said softly, his eyes still closed.

"I miss you," I replied, wrapping my arms around him. "I miss you so much."

He kissed me again and again, until I felt almost drunk from him. It was so easy to slip back into kissing him, to slip back into being wrapped up in him. It was entirely too easy to get carried away.

It didn't help that he remembered exactly where the bedroom was, and thus didn't need my input on the matter.

He brought me upstairs and locked the door behind us, gently placing me on the bed. He pulled his t-shirt up over his head, and I found myself sighing as I ran my hands over his bare skin.

"We can't," I said while he pressed his lips insistently against mine.

He paused and pulled away. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," I replied quickly. "I don't ever want you to leave again. I just..." I swallowed hard. "I keep doing things wrong. I don't know that I can trust myself to make the right decision here."

His lips twitched up into a small smile. "I understand." He proceeded to pull his pants off, and I raised my eyebrow quizzically. "Did you expect me to sleep in jeans?" He asked, his smile slightly more pronounced as he slid into the bed beside me.

For the first time in a long time, I slept well, wrapped in the arms of my partner and best friend.

…

Until the next morning, when the door was splintered off of its hinges and hell unleashed.


	9. Chapter 9

Thank you all, once again, for reading!

The final installment is posted under the title "Holding The Hand That Holds Me Down." I hope you all enjoy the conclusion!

I will be posting more after a fashion, but not in the same series. If you'd like, Author Alerts are always welcome and appreciated.

Thank you all again, from the bottom of my heart!


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